The defiance and endurance of ‘Heartstopper’

Heartstopper Season 3 leaves no stone unturned as it introduces darker themes for Charlie, Nick, and co. to grapple with.

My head hurts from crying. This stand-alone statement is embarrassing enough. It is made worse only by the fact that the cause of my tears, my painfully swollen eyes, is a TV show meant for high schoolers. I am grown. I have a 401K and a rapidly approaching ten-year high school reunion. Still, Season 3 of Heartstopper left me wholly unraveled.

Light spoilers for Heartstopper Season 3 below.

Don’t get me wrong, I cried during the first two seasons as well. Those were light, sunshiny tears. I kicked my feet and yelled the word ‘finally’ at Nick and Charlie’s first kiss. The first two seasons brought me queer, defiant joy. 

I couldn’t have written it better myself. The gay panic watching Keira Knightly / Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribbean. The supportive friend group pooling their change to buy their nonbinary friend a suit. So many same sex couples kissing at the Prom I was too closeted to attend. Those early episodes were healing, for the most part, to watch. Meaning— I was able to swallow any unsuspecting jealousy rising in my throat and just be happy for these kids.

Oh, but this third season. It left no stone unturned. It abandoned the show’s previous guise of innocent, childlike romance and shifted its gaze to the devastating, extreme realities that queer people endure. Self-harm, ‘bad brain’ days, gender dysphoria, abandonment.

This storyline was unbelievably heavy. I watched it all in one sitting, staring my past in the face—  the landline phone in the inpatient center, so many worried eyes, everyone unsure of how to touch you. My high school experience certainly was a painful one. Strikingly similar to Charlie’s, but with more shame, toxic codependency, and a lot less therapy.

It feels too easy to say ‘I wish I had this show when I was younger.’

I will gladly settle for having it now. 

This season hurt a little more than it healed me. But it was worth it, I think, for the gentle reminders I still needed to hear. There is one therapy scene, in particular, where Charlie discusses his desire to not let his trauma define him. His therapist responds with a challenge, saying, “Trauma doesn’t define you, but it also doesn’t vanish in five minutes. So, give yourself some grace.” Charlie’s healing journey has only just begun, and the same is true of my own.

In many ways, this show makes me feel late to the party. I’m 27, and my queerness still fits like big shoes I’m growing into. I said earlier that watching Season 3 was like watching my past. I wept as I watched how I should’ve been handled. With care, radical acceptance, a banning of the s-word (sorry) as I tried to sort my depression symptoms out.

Just as I watched my past, I watched my present and future. Yes, the actors are kids in the show, but age goes out the window with these things. I watched a 16-year-old try out them/them pronouns for the first time and re-lived the nausea I felt, seeing my own she/they pronouns in my bio just last week. I watch Charlie begin to repair his relationship with his mother and am thrust forward into this year’s awkward Thanksgiving dinner, where we will all dance around the phrase “Lauren’s girlfriend.”

Perhaps the most difficult reality I faced while watching this season was actually Nick, bawling as he grappled with his boyfriend’s diagnosis. The pain in his voice when he says, “I really love him, and I’m scared.” It hurts to watch Nick love but not understand his partner. Watch him get snapped at for his genuine efforts to help. (I am not Nick in this scenario) .

As I write this paragraph, my girlfriend is tiptoeing into the room with coffee and apple slices. We are learning together, how to get through winters. How she can help on Mondays after my therapy sessions and on my ‘bad brain’ days. She is more than I deserve, and I gained even more appreciation for her while watching this stupid, beautiful show. 

As the world becomes more accepting of queer people of the mentally ill, it’s easy to assume that those who fall into those categories are having an easier time being themselves. Many of us still aren’t, and this show is for us. For adults conditioned to make themselves small, palatable, stable contributors to society. For those of us who are very good at pushing feelings down before giving them a name. All three seasons of Heartstopper are lovely, but this last one is ours. Painfully urging us to take up more space, apologize a little less, and love our people a little more.

Heartstopper Season 3 is out now on Netflix.

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Images courtesy of Netflix.